Follia
by iNikkix3
Summary: Welcome to Vongola Asylum for the Mentally Unsound. It is now Mukuro's home for life. His fellow insane playmates seem to like him... At least, most of them. All he did was flirt and insult a little... Rated T/M for gory themes, darkness and swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: iNikkix3 does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. This covers the whole story.  
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**Follia**

**Chapter One: Beginnings**

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><p>Insane, that he was.<p>

A sly giggle escaped his lips. Just like how he escaped every single prison before. Nothing could detain it, him.

How many times had he been locked up so tightly, with electronic devices blocking his every stop? How many times had he escaped so easily from those security precautions?

Ah ah, killing him did not work. They tried to break him, but they obviously could not. All he did was to simply regenerate everything with real illusions. So all they could do was to keep him in a safe little padlocked room, keep him away from people to kill. But then, they forgot that there were grubby little insects everywhere for him.

And the sweet death of all his tormentors. With so much blood, of course. Warm, sticky, delicious. So much that it all soon became glorified liquid. He painted everything the colour of his left eye, the artificial one they stuck back in the empty socket after gouging the real one out. The one that jump started all his powers.

Pretty, bloody red.

Well, he did show them what they wanted. An example, the final product of all their _efforts_. Too bad they were too… dead to see it.

They, men in sterile white coats who might as well be sterile themselves, tested their filthy mechanic products on him. Stuck a mutant gene in him, cut his flesh to experiment on, inserted drugs for his reactions. Like he was not human, like he deserved it.

Though, the man mused thoughtfully, he might as well not be human anymore. Not with all the drugs swirling in his veins, stuck in scientific stasis for years and years.

But every single one of those scientists was dead. After the day one 'kind hearted' new scientist forgot to turn the electrocution up to the maximum, he managed to escape; managed to dye the whole white hostile area a warm, welcoming shade of crimson; managed to torture every single one a mere fraction of what they had done to him.

But then he was shot through the heart; captured before he could finish creating his fake heart with his real illusions again, before he could stabilise his unsteady condition.

They named him crazy, stuck him in cold laboratory after laboratory, for simply more and more research on their interesting specimen. They did not understand him, so he killed. Until one day, people would get why he murdered, why all of these actions were so unjustified it hurt.

They had inadvertently trained him, so that he immediately knew how to murder, stab, slice in the best way possible and get all the liquid gushing out. He could polish his skills, twisting their weak human minds around his little finger before snapping them all, tearing out their minds while they stood before him armed with a gun. After all, countless men had fallen for him, cold and soulless- not that they were not without a soul before.

A quirky smile twisted his face into something mad, delusional.

Some might think men died for useless reasons, but he was no cynic or pessimist. He preferred to think that men died to pave the way for his success, his freedom. If more decided to lock him up further, well… more died. And he loved it when more target practices came his way.

Honestly, did they really think he would fall from simple tear gas? When he could rip their minds apart with just one touch? When he could make them live in eternal fear with just a look into their soul? Did they think they could break him with endless walls, comforting gestures? Did they think he would be convinced by some crack pot doctor who believed in fairytales?

It was their choice to keep him alife, their precious product, so as to make him stronger, _stronger. _Well, perhaps with a little of his influence, he conceded. Why succumb to death so easily, when there was so much more in life he had sworn to see?

He was not that little boy who was captured and broken anymore. He was stronger, given weapons by his own enemy, the man spat mentally. How ironic.

He would purify the world of all the filth, starting with this 'top-notch' asylum for the mentally unsound, where patients were known to only escape in body bags. Maybe he'll set another record again. After all, the scientists had finally been caught by the law, and the police merely knew him as a weak, mentally unsound pubescent who had been tortured, who killed _in defence_, who could not be held guilty, who _needed help. _

He could hear the door slide open with metal chains clinking; a slight rustle here and there; soft, careful footsteps. A futile attempt to keep him unaware. The eyes glowed faintly in the dark- one red, one blue.

Sitting in his straitjacket, the man smiled happily, tilted his head as much as he could manage and whispered, "Starting with you."

-_lock me up, take me away-_

At a first glance, the Italian Vongola Asylum for the Mentally Unsound was simply another high-security prison for criminally inclined mental patients, equipped with all the fancy gadgets to keep the... ah... special criminals in and located in an unknown place far away from civilised people.

Should you look closer, the asylum provided extra help for these deemed unredeemable people. They were allowed to socialise, but nothing further. Everything was monitored carefully, notes taken down by specialists during these little sessions. It was all for the patients' sake, for them to _heal._

Other such asylums could not, for these highly secured uncontrollable patients would escape so easily. But Vongola Asylum was just as special as the patients it housed.

You see, like all other heavily guarded prisons, most of their patients were sent from all around the world with records so stained that the black ink almost looked red. But unlike all other heavily guarded prisons, Vongola Asylum was one of a kind.

All the patients there were, well, equipped with extraordinary _powers_, for the lack of a better word. Some were all natural, some were forced into those itty bitty bodies at a young age, but all these patients had another thing in common besides murdering an uncountable number of people, they were all insane.

Then, why, you may ask, were all these patients grouped together? Would it not be better for them to be separated so that there was not a mass break out due to all of them cooperating?

There comes a tiny little problem in these insane freaks' way to freedom. All the guards were similarly equipped as well. The only difference?

They killed under the government's orders, nice and legal. Restrained insanity. The rest of the time, they were locked up too, as guards, in this nice place called Vongola Asylum for the Mentally Unsound.

-_let me tear you apart-_

"New patient?" Reborn asked shortly, keeping his blank poker face steady and calm.

"Room M69, Reborn," His fellow guard, Lal Mirch, smirked back, stroking her beloved gun covered in unsightly bloodstains.

Now, his own weaponry was always polished, clean and shining to the very end. It was always more satisfactory than the cannibalistic way Lal had always let fresh blood splatter over her. Reborn took great pride in making sure his guns looked new even after several murders. They would look reborn, like their owner.

He showed his displeasure by frowning slightly and demanded, "File."

New patients always took so long to break, especially after all the victories they have had previously. They had to be conditioned to accept that they would not be leaving this place, ever. After all, if they, the guards, could barely leave, why should the lower ranked filth be able to hope to see sunlight at all?

A faint swish of air.

Before Lal could even cock her gun that she had aimed at him, Reborn pointed his quaint sickly-green pistol at her, finger pressing dangerously on the trigger.

"Always the fan of eccentric colours, eh?" Lal gave an unhealthy grin as she threw the file at his head. "Your reflexes slowed by .02 seconds."

Reborn's eyes glinted dangerously as he caught the file before it even came near his new hat, "I can murder you in .02 seconds."

She was testing his limits, way too much as the weakest of all eight guards when he was still the strongest, the alpha.

She pouted cheekily, before backing away with her hands in the air. Not that it did much difference, for both knew she could kill him from that distance with a well placed rain flame. That was, if he was already on death's door with a million bullet wounds.

He continued walking to Room M69 coolly. Fucking new patient bringing him extra work.

"I'll just go fuck with 'Herbivore' K18 then," She laughed; called after him.

Reborn could have shot her fifteen times in the time she took to react. "He's mine to break, _Lal_."

"But he's not breaking anytime soon, from what I hear." She muttered, disappearing into mist.

Reborn's fingers gave an unrestrained twitch.

-_you can try, you will die-_

The patient in Room M69 was bored. He could feel his bloodlust churning up, yet the silly man that walked into his room fell so fast. Was this so called impenetrable area really so substandard? Why, the man fell after .4 seconds in his happy play area. And he was still in his strait jacket and chained to his chair!

At least the door was still left open. Giving a regretful smile to the man carrying his 'meal' laced with at least one type of hallucinatory drug, he prepared to break free of his restraints and leave.

Well, he tried to. Somehow, the more the energy he put into the grimy restraint, the more energy was sapped away quickly, leaving him light-headed. Come to think of it, he could barely force out enough power to kill the man on the ground too.

Oh my_,_ they had created a fun new gadget for him to play with! Like every new asylum he was shunted into. No matter, it was all fun and games until everyone got injured- oops, he meant, until everyone died. Since, you know, one man was already dead.

He frowned, moving his flames cautiously around the areas the strait jacket touched his skin. They were sucked in immediately. Quickly, his flames gathered in one hot ball in the middle of his chest, leaving his limbs weak and floppy. This would slow down the rate in which his flames would vanish at.

"You move fast," A new dark voice sounded out from the doorway that let fluorescent light spill into his dark cage.

Funny, he had not sensed the guy at all.

Patient M69 gave a proud grin, "That's what everyone tells me. I prefer slow and painful torture though."

He tested his reserve stores of energy, just below half. The strait jacket had drained more than he thought, and was still draining. He would not try to escape first then. He would wait. Like in all the other prisons, until he got a full plan on how to escape.

"As do I. Fortunately, you will have a chance to be tortured painfully and slowly." The refined voice altered a little, letting some glee and anticipation to slide into the deadpan tone.

"Say," Patient M69 squinted a little to make out the silhouette of the tall man leaning on the doorway. "Are you a new roommate?"

He had to admit, his eyes were not very good without his flames' help. Especially the one that was not gouged out and replaced with a synthetic one. And the synthetic one did not let light filter through it so his brain could not read the images sent through his nerves and interpret them- for all you stupid people, he could not see through his left eye.

The man chuckled and stepped towards him, "No, I'm your temporary psychologist- or guard."

Patient M69 pouted, "Are you going to insert drugs in me again? If so, I'm going to have to kill you. And I don't like killing sexy guys- though those curls are a turn-off," He managed to tack a leer on to the end of the sentence.

Cold metal pressed against his temple- both of them, as a deadly voice whispered in his ear, "I must say, being hit on by my _patient_ is a new thing for me."

Managing a cheeky grin, Patient M69 relaxed his tense shoulders and licked his lips a little. He could barely see the guard move, with such speed, what was such a man doing in an asylum as a guard?

"I'm going to bring you to your daily compulsory _session_, where you can meet all your fellow... extremists. If you make one twitch, I'll pull the trigger." Once the man finished speaking, purple flames (1) surrounded the air below his hard chair and pushed Patient M69 out of the room.

Light flooded his eyes as M69 recoiled, pushing his head back uncomfortably.

Being shot would be nasty for him, M69 calculated. He needed his energy reserves for when he went to wherever he was brought to, so he could not waste energy trying to regenerate his brain after being shot. But... he would take the risk anyway. Insane people had no sense of boundaries after all.

"You're one of _us_," M69 mentioned serenely, eyes flickering to where the propagating air continued to push him up, generating a floating effect.

The man with the curly sideburns barely stopped his finger from hitting the trigger. "Yes, I guess you can learn a new thing every day. I did tell you to shut up, didn't I?"

"Why are you siding with them?" He ignored the warning and charged straight on like a mad bull... in a strait jacket and with one blind eye...

"This bullet is charged with sun flames. If shot, it will numb all your bodily functions until you die (2). If you do not want that to happen, shut the fuck up."

Patient M69's lips twitched as he held back a rude insult and fell silent, contemplating the various reasons for the betrayal. Even insanity was not a reason for this; being insane did not mean they were door mats who would side with the enemy, they wanted revenge too.

They moved in silence, as annoyance emanated from the guard.

His eyes remained flickering, memorising the path they had taken as his mind continued whirring. Four unlabelled doors, six doors without knobs, two labelled doors like his own. Eight lock down zones, one corridor leading away. Endless gloomy grey; endless silence beyond the soft sound of flames burning.

Reborn stopped outside a door with a knob and dripped some blood on the panel beside the door. M69 was courteously jerked to a stop in front of the door, so that he almost fell. Whirring and clicking noises sounded from behind the panel as all sorts of tests were conducted.

These kinds of tests were so easily passed with a big explosion, M69 mused, feeling disappointed. What happened to the good security in this place?

"Here we are," The man scowled slightly- lips twitching down. "Instructions and introductions inside."

M69 remained silent, taking the chance to feel for the flames, checking if they were absorbable so that he could replenish his energy. The flames hissed and spat at his toes, obviously as friendly as their master. What a bummer.

Curly Sideburns paused for a moment before slowly replying, "To your earlier question... It's so that I don't become like you."

With that, M69 floated into the room full of strange people. The door closed, whirring again. The flames vanished, leaving M69 to tip over unglamorously and kiss the carpeted ground.

His face stretched into an unearthly grin. He might like his temporary psychologist.

_-I'll break you-_

(1)- I'm guessing that Reborn is so strong he can't only have sun flames, so I'll give him multiple flames in this story.

(2)- It's a type of bullet, appeared in canon. For confirmation, search Reborn Wikia, under Reborn's abilities.

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><p><strong>AN: This is dedicated to NinaKerndall. Your present, dear 8D **

**A/N2: I do not support R69, for that matter. But Mukuro being the horny guy he is, technically flirts with everyone even when made a little bit more insane than he was previously. No OTP decided for now, though I'm mostly leaning towards 6918 or 6927 :) Your reviews might influence my decision, so you know what to do /hinthintnudgenudge/  
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**Like it? Hate it? Review~ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.  
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**Follia**

**Chapter Two: Introductions and Instructions**

"Impressive entrance, love," A smooth voice drawled out, sending uncomfortable goose bumps down M69's neck.

He did not enjoy exposing vulnerable areas to people, especially certified as insane patients in this ah... recreational play room.

"So, what did you do to get sent into this hell hole?" Another cool voice asked, a barest hint of curiosity lacing the voice.

"Kill?" M69 gave a toothy smile, struggling to flip over so he could at least use his visual sense he was born with.

A deep baritone voice snorted, "Herbivore. Got to do better than that to impress anyone here."

M69 could feel the challenge issued, and his hackles rose like an annoyed cat. But no, he was not going to reveal anything too fast. Not until he got things out of these friendly patients. It was a vicious game he had played before. Everyone in the asylum was locked up for some unlawful reason or another; they had to get some entertainment out of challenging each other's track records before they explode and start killing before the time was ripe.

Provoking other people was his favourite tool of getting information. The angrier they got, the more they leaked, and the more he could play. Hence, he obviously chose a smart ass and intimidating reply, "Kufufu, I eat my meat raw, bloody and screaming for help, darling."

"Are you hinting at something?" A confused, raspy tone sounded out. "I don't get it to the extreme!"

"Shut up, numbskull!" A fierce snarl came from somewhere to the left of M69.

Interesting, hostile already. He was dealing with experienced players, M69 decided with no doubt. They all had their shields up and waiting, reinforced from the beginning. People who inevitably provided him with a chance to hone his skills, he thought optimistically, instead of people who were hard to manipulate into being his body shield.

"I'll show you what I mean," He offered, smiling widely, "If you could just shift me into a more comfy position? My handsome face should not be pressed to the ground for too long."

He was taking a chance, offering a weakness. Submitting for a while would stroke these men's egos, while he would not be exposed for the sly, manipulating bastard- well, not that he knew whether he was really a bastard or not- that he was.

A ridiculing snort this time, along with a calm order, "Lambo, go do what the newbie says."

Either his plan worked, or he was immediately seen through. M69 pouted slightly, the voice was too controlled for him to detect any flaws he could make use of.

'Lambo' dragged M69's chair some steps forward- eight, he counted subconsciously- while leaning close to M69's ear to whisper, "They monitor this room."

The patient's eye twitched indignantly, as if he did not know? What did they take him for- an idiot like the 'Extreme' person? Then again, 'Extreme' might have been just putting on a mask... Ah, mind games, mind games.

M69 was flipped over and balanced on the right side at last, taking note that 'Lambo' was careful not to touch the strait jacket. So they were familiar with this nifty toy...

His heterochromatic eyes darted around the room quickly, absorbing every detail he could with a cursory glance. He would have time to memorise the details later, if what the rude traitor who had brought him here said was correct.

In general, it appeared to be a comfy room, with couches and tables laid out around the large place. M69 was not quite sure why they allowed such things. Even a table was be used as a weapon; anything could, but especially a table, since M69 had been hit by a metal one once.

Gave him a concussion... Bad memories.

Seven people lounged around lazily, except for one who sat stiffly on a hard wooden chair like him, chained down with bronze chains that had mist drifting around them. M69 spared himself a moment to examine the thing carefully, so they had a mist flame user here. Another traitor.

All seven people were dressed in the same ugly prison suit- ghastly orange- that restricted peeing with ease. With so many government funds pumped into this place, they could actually design better clothing instead of the trash they were expected to wear.

"So, they allow you to be free of this unfashionable thing here, huh?" He wiggled his body provocatively, and earned a zap while the strait jacket sapped off his energy.

"Good behaviour," A young man with cropped black hair laughed. "You'll get it removed too, if you're good."

"I'm more of a bad boy," M69 winked back, hiding the strain the strait jacket put him in with the continuous draining of flame energy. "Well, as much as I can be with this appalling outfit."

"Great, so we get an incorrigible flirt along with that baseball idiot," The silver-haired man muttered under his breath, glaring hostilely at M69's flirting partner.

How _tsundere. _His lips twitched into a small smile. Romantic tension was in the air- and M69 was not all that straight either, so he welcomed it.

A smaller man ran a hand through his caramel coloured unruly locks, "Right, so let's get on with the introductions before _they_ get on my case."

He was the one who had ordered 'Lambo' to help M69 before, so he was the leader, who listened to the guards, in this place? Not for long, if M69 had a choice. He was _always_ the ring leader.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I have no name," M69 tried to shrug nonchalantly, strait jacket still preventing any large movements. "Unless you want to count my nicknames... Most popular of them was 'demon'; my prison wardens were not very creative."

"You get new names here," 'Lambo' smirked, the teen appearing to have curly black hair and an injured left eye- hey, why else would he leave it closed?

"Ooh, a naming session," M69 filled his voice with false excitement as he bounced slightly in his seat.

"Real mature," Caramel Hair responded dryly, bright flame coloured eyes flashing. "Right, so, the people here are the main psychos that they decide are the most dangerous, _unbroken_."

He paused for a moment, jerking as if something had zapped him like M69's strait jacket. His ring finger trembled for a split second, silver ring flashing innocently on it. M69 scanned the room suspiciously, noticing the rings on every patient's hands. A new torture device to replace the bulky strait jacket then, to give a false appearance of 'home' and 'safety'.

"And you know that Vongola Asylum houses only special patients," Caramel Hair's voice seemed a little breathless as he continued determinedly. "That's known by everyone who knows this madhouse. But what they don't know is that all the patients here can control flames, a specific type or a few."

M69 raised his eyebrows slightly, so there were no special powers other than flames in this place? How disappointing- not that he actually thought otherwise, but he could _hope_ for some spice in his life other than mindless killing.

"Each of us here can control a type of flame, though unfortunately, we can't exactly give a demonstration," Caramel Hair smiled softly, hands twitching as if summoning his flame. "Well, onwards with the introductions..."

He could sense that Caramel Hair was holding back, something else, but he deemed it unimportant; he could not simply take the liberty to pry at their secrets so early. M69 instead, took the time to examine the others' faces. They all seemed to accept the fact, face hidden behind each carefully constructed mask.

Caramel Hair continued talking smoothly, "Since I can control the sky flame, I'm the one who takes the orders from the guards. My name is Tsunayoshi Sawada -"

"Tsuna, Tsuna, Tsunayoshi~" M69 could not resist, singing the name in an annoying manner. "You know, I had a friend called Yoshi, until I killed him for betraying me."

Tsundere tensed slightly, body shifting to protect Caramel- Tsunayoshi. Like a guard dog, snarling at everyone who came close. Pfft.

"No harm done, little dog," The not quite sane man taunted, enjoying the look on Tsundere's face. "I was simply telling the truth about my past."

Growling under his breath, Tsundere shot a nasty glare at M69's temporary flirting partner with short black hair for holding him back. Not that M69 could actually fight back in his current position- energy levels dropping to barely a third.

Tsunayoshi sighed wearily, "Enough, Gokudera."

M69 thought that Tsundere looked remarkably like a puppy now that the 'boss' had deigned to look at him. How cute.

"As you know, he is called Hayato Gokudera and controls the Storm flame," Tsunayoshi gestured at Tsundere, "And he is quite protective of me, so I suggest you don't try to antagonise me."

"And I'm Takeshi Yamamoto," The dark haired guy laughed cheerfully, waving his hand while shooting a glance at Tsundere- Tsunayoshi's bitch- looking wistfully at the said man. "Rain flame."

Love triangle. _Japanese _love triangle. Lovely. They were so easy to read that it was so obvious all of this was a farce. Well, mostly a farce.

"Lambo, just Lambo," drawled the man who had thought M69 was an idiot, but was rather thoughtful. "Bzzt. (1)"

"I'm Ryohei Sasagawa, 'cause I'm so extreme!" A white haired guy roared, pumping his fist in the air energetically. "I can use the extreme Sun flame!"

Oh for the fucking love of- M69 hated dealing with people with stupid masks- that is, people who acted stupid, not that the mask was stupid since M69 found it to be the most effective mask of all. He was just going to ignore this 'extreme' guy and hope that his ears would not die.

"Hn, Kyouya Hibari," The low voiced guy, M69 recognised, who had insulted him almost immediately after the asshole guard left him doing a face plant on the ground. "Cloud."

The sweet skylark (2) happened to be the one chained down with bronze, as he glared at M69. Whoa, astoundingly friendly. He did not looked like one who would play nice and hence, the chains. So this was a trick of the guards/ psychologists? They would show the patients that good behaviour would result in partial freedom while bad behaviour would result in severe punishments?

M69 curled his lip involuntarily, how elementary of them to be using peer pressure for mad patients to behave. Too bad Kyouya seemed to take that as a sneer directed at him and glared even fiercer. Ouch.

Now, who else was left? M69 scanned the room and found a shy purple haired girl who had almost blended into the background.

"I control M-Mist," She blushed brightly and whispered. "Chrome Dokuro..."

Well damn, then what was going to happen to him then? That girl copied his flame type! Maybe if he accidentally stabbed her in the heart with his trident... Nah, too much trouble to go through with.

"My name for now is M69," He tried not to look at the weak girl, feeling as if she would spontaneously explode if he so much as frowned at her. "I control Mist too."

Tsunayoshi- what a fucking mouthful (sexual innuendo meant to be implied)- gasped, "Hiie! That's right! We have to think of a name for the newbie! Since he doesn't have a name yet and the guards won't even bother to name us!"

He seemed so despondent that M69 eyed him warily. Wasn't it a bit too far to carry out his mask? At least he was good at acting, M69 conceded.

"Fits his pathetic self!" Tsundere barked like a loyal dog as usual.

"Now, now," M69 smiled, almost pacifying, if not for the mischievous glint in his eye.

Tsundere eyed him suspiciously. Smart son of a defective bitch.

"Dogs should not bark without their master's permission," He finished, smiling sweetly.

"Why you bastard-" Woof. Woof.

"Gokudera! Enough!" Tsunayoshi yelled, putting a controlling hand on Tsundere, who subsequently looked like he was in heaven ("Juu-Juudaime!"). "Newbie can be called, for now, Mist, until I think of a better name."

So Tsunayoshi was the one in charge of sentimentality... M69 eyed the obvious leader- he had the sky flame, for heaven's sake!- as he calculated possible moves he could take now that their cards were partially revealed.

"Sure," A wide creepy grin split M69's face. "So all it takes is for little Chrome over there to break and I'll be the only one who controls the Mist flame in our unique pyrotechnic freak show?"

Chrome drew a long shaky breath as she backed away from him. Timid people would not last in this hell hole, so she had better harden up, or choose a new mask. People here would not underestimate; they took the chance to break you. M69 would gladly accept the chance to break the weak mist flame user.

"Mist, please stop it," Tsunayoshi cut in sharply, but did not deny it. "Now for the rules in this place- there are a few. Break them and you have signed your life over to the guards."

"First of all, listen to the guards. They make the law here." Lambo shot a hasty glance around the room, before leaning closer to mouth 'flame users'.

As M69 said before, overly helpful brat.

"Secondly, don't talk back to them to the extreme, unless you want to end up like Hibari-san here!" Ryohei said- not yelled, hallelujah!- and waved a hand in Kyouya's general direction, earning a patented Kyouya Hibari death glare.

M69 caught Kyouya's eye and held it. Just as the annoyed man was about to turn away, M69 gave a superior haha-you-failure smirk, increasing the other man's frustration by leaps and bounds. Provocation always worked.

"Thirdly, don't kill anyone." Tsunayoshi looked meaningfully at M69, as if hinting at something. "There are staff and other patients here. You do not want to be locked away in The Room for killing them, for they do not actually mean any ill will."

"What-" He opened his mouth to ask, before a panicked look passing through everyone's eyes made him snap his mouth shut.

Obviously a torture room. It made M69 wonder what was in that room, curious enough to want to break that rule to see how bad The Room could really be.

Tsunayoshi managed a shaky smile, "That's all for now-"

"We do not speak of the Room here," Tsundere growled threateningly, fingers twitching in a specific pattern as barely visible red flame swirled over his palm for a split second.

They could use their flame? M69 had assumed that the ring used to torture Tsunayoshi was also to drain off their energy and being proven wrong had left M69 slightly wrong footed- M69 hated being proven wrong.

"Alright, DereDere dog," M69 opened his mouth to conveniently insult Tsundere, while feeling strangely lost and new in this strange new hierarchy.

"Just a side note," Tsunayoshi took a deep breath as if to gather up his nerves and whispered, "There are eight guards that are inhumanely strong here, lapdogs for the government. Their purpose is to break us-"

With that, Tsunayoshi let out a pained cry and collapsed, ring glowing orange for a few seconds. He recovered himself almost immediately after, shaking and pale. A loud chorus of "TSUNA!" sounded out, comically. Tsundere rushed over and started helpfully shaking said Sky flame user roughly, surely to send Tsunayoshi to death's door faster.

M69 smirked, so he was wrong when he had estimated these people before. They were too trusting, thinking any patient would be their comrade immediately, so they spill out any information in an attempt to help their 'friends'. Even at the cost of their own health.

No matter what Tsunayoshi was trying to warn him about, M69 was sure he would find out sooner or later, so he was not exactly all that worried about the guards. Too bad if his guard was an inhumanely strong person.

On the brighter side, M69's suspicion about the shiny rings was confirmed. The guards used the rings to torture the patients, as well as to keep them quiet about certain secrets new people could not access yet.

M69 widened his eyes slightly, putting on a slightly innocent air, "Are you okay? I'll help you, but I can't exactly get out of these constraints."

He had never said he was not a manipulative son of a bitch who played dirty, especially with people practically handing over ammunition. He was psychotic, not stupid like these people, who obviously believed in the spirit of caring and sharing- except for Kyouya. M69 could still feel the dirty look shot at him. Kyouya was not a care and share person, confirmed and certified by Lord M69 himself.

"Back off, you madman!" And Tsundere too. Ah, M69 had forgotten about the barking Chihuahua.

"Go-Gokudera, I'm fine." Tsunayoshi coughed, straightening up with help from Tsundere and Takeshi. "Thank you... You too, Mist."

"Hey, I didn't do anything," M69 tried to shrug nonchalantly- damn, that strait jacket was ruining his style. "But if you want to thank me, you're welcome."

"Just another thing," Sky looked at M69, eyes glowing with warmth, "I thought of a name for you. Mu- since you live in Room M**6**9, ku- for the 9, and ro- to make it a name that makes sense... Mukuro Rokudo... Is that okay with you?"

M69- Mukuro used sheer willpower to prevent himself from cackling insanely. These people were strong not to break, that was obvious, yet they held a typical innocence seen in teenagers despite being able to kill and murder. So trusting that he faintly envied them for being able to live, while he could only survive with a broken spirit.

He let his lips tilt upwards faintly, pretending to be grateful. It was the way he smiled when he was six, before he was broken and hardened again, M69- Mukuro faintly remembered.

"Of course it is, Tsunayoshi."

"Alright! So we're all comrades now to the extreme!" Ryohei roared, nearly deafening all the insane people in the room- that is, everyone. "_Nakama_ (3) for life!"

He stuck out his bandaged fist, and wiggled it, as if expecting them to do something. An awkward silence fell upon the group as they stared at the hand. Mukuro could almost hear the crickets.

"Turf head! I'm not going to do that silly action again!" Tsundere yelled in reply, just as M69- damn, he was having difficulty remembering to call himself by this name- Mukuro deadpanned, "Two of us are restrained to nasty wooden chairs, I don't think we can spare any hands for that juvenile action."

In the next second, Kyouya gave another death glare (TM-ed) at Mukuro, as if hating him for just grouping them together, and Ryohei started protesting loudly.

Ah, peaceful chaos. Mukuro sat there while the room broke out in friendly noise, considering his current plight. He had to admit, he was not quite sure whether this scene before him was a sight of sanity or just another mask. He was not used to such warmth and openness, even with them being watched by the guards.

He almost felt like a rock in the river, alone and cold while the warmth streamed by him. Untouched by it all. Almost. He hated himself for the stirring of heat within his shrivelled black heart.

* * *

><p><strong>(1)- A sound of lightning being conducted. Lambo was acting cool.<strong>

**(2)- Kyouya means skylark, hence the affectionate nickname.**

**(3)- Nakama means comrades, friends. Despite them being in some mysterious corner of Italy right now and hence, are speaking in Italian, Ryohei slips back into his Japan roots :) I thought it would be cute.**

**A/N: Part 2 is up, yo 3 Merry Christmas to all~!**


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